The Diary of Charlie
by Scaria1
Summary: The story of the Hero called 'The bandit Slayer'. How he came to be; How he enjoyed his life, and how he got his name. Charlie. Art for this story is coming soon; Please enjoy all comments/feedback and critique's welcome. x This story is also on Deviantart (scaria1 deviantartcom/art/The-Diary-of-Charlie-589514856) - You know what to do...
_They used to call me great. They used to shriek in praise as I prowled my way through the streets. 'All hail the Bandit slayer!' They screamed with praise. They used to call me hero, but she used to call me Charlie…_

It was a golden autumn evening. The sun glistening relaxingly through the twisted branches and darkened leaves of dark wood forest. Haunted and dangerous they used to scream, they just didn't know the best places. I would sit for hours on the edges of the forest, looking out onto the murky, foliage-lined path, the vague scent of heavy trodden dirt and merchant piss making the woods neigh unforgettable. It was a good day; that is if this little cow would let go of my tail! If she yanked any harder she would have pulled the damn thing off! It was stubby enough as it was.

"Doggy! Good doggy!" She screamed at me. I don't know if she was blind or just stupid. I definitely wasn't a doggy. I would have disembowelled her as well… If it wasn't for her eyes, I had seen them before, eyes like hers. When I was looking at my gaping maw in a near-by puddle, how the mud accentuated my auburn fur, how the drool that clung to my wonderful jowls made me glisten with radiant innocence. I wasn't just any balverine… I was a bloody stunner of one, but she had my eyes… I suppose that's how this all started, because I was a balverine that could understand the sentimental linings of things. So I didn't claw her face off; instead I followed her all the way home and tucked myself up in her father's barn. It was comfy in Oakvale, I couldn't complain. A balverine all tucked up in warm hay with a doting missy at my side. Luxury.

She was a nice lass, Angelina. A bit dense but she tried, and that's what counts. Every day she'd bring me a bowl of milk and her breakfast scraps. I found myself with a new loving appreciation of this thing called 'Bacon' but there wasn't enough of it to really deal with my appetite, but I was sure to get my fill of merchants whilst she was at school, or snatch a few chicks from her father's side pens. Almost caught me once; that would have been bad, but I was good, for Angelina's sake at least. One day she came strolling in with a great smile on her face, she sat on my paw, which I forgave her for, and revealed this poorly done woven band. I think it was meant to be a collar, but she severely underestimated my size, lucky for her I had beautifully slimming wrists. She put the little band on me. "We'll never be apart Charlie." She started. "You and I will be heroes! Angelina and her faithful Charlie!" Ah, heroes… That's all anyone around these parts ever prattled on about, but it was good for her to have a dream, and I faithful Charlie, would help her anyway I could.

It was a golden autumn night. Only golden because of the fire that rose from the house and licked the sky with reckless abandon. It wasn't touching my barn, so for the most part I ignored it. Why would I get involved? The roars of men soon filled my ears; that startled me. Did they know I was here? Did I take one merchant too many?! I panicked, rushing from my home when I saw her. My little Angelina held by her ankle by one hell of an ugly bandit, I thought Hobbes were bad, but this guy could win awards, her screams still haunt me at night, but then I remember his screams. I remember the look in his eyes as Charlie ripped open his throat and howled towards the bloodied sky. My poor Angelina, I dragged her corpse to the side of the road, digging her a little pit and hiding her body from the world. I tried my best to write a few words but the intricacies of writing and the gangly claws of a balverine don't mix quite well. Before covering her with dirt I pulled her stained dress from her body. I wanted to remember her. My family had been slaughtered ruthlessly by the bandits, as had many others that red night in Oakvale. I walked into my burning home, on two legs of all things, and pulled Angelina's dress over my snarling muzzle, wrapped up in her father's hat and mother's dressing gown, I took to the streets. Faithful Charlie became Charlie the bandit slayer that night. That night, I made Angelina's dream come true. That night, _We_ Became Heroes.

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 **A/N: Thank you for reading, I know it's been a long time since I uploaded anything on this account. This story is also on Deviantart if you'd like to favourite or comment there also, that'd do me a world of good, please enjoy my art work whilst you're there also. Thank you for your support, comments and criticism, as it's all welcome. Perhaps I shall remove many of my other stories here and start again. Thank you again! Scaria1.**

 **( scaria1 deviantartcom/** **art/The-Diary-of-Charlie-589514856) - You know what to do...**


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